The Sweet Dreams of Now
by Sam deLittle
Summary: He used to have sweet dreams. She wanted him to have them back. Gwevin. KxG. Drabble!


Yes, I have another ficlet. This one's more of a drabble, to tell the truth. I'm working on a longer story, but I just had the overwhelming inspiration to write some Gwevin, so here you go! :D

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He used to have sweet dreams.

Dreams of adventures in places out of this world. Those of his imagination. Where he'd jump on wild horses and ride them across oceans. Where he'd climb to a mountain with the help of his father. Where he'd hold his mother's hand and look out onto the sky perched atop a cloud.

He used to have sweet dreams.

And then his nighttime thoughts were filled with nightmares. A myriad of blacks and reds and screams and cries for help. Tearing at flesh, tearing at souls. Revenge plagued his mind, hurt and betrayal dragging him down like a weight on a chain. He was drowning – drowning in his own hate and selfishness, and even in his dreams, he couldn't escape his self-loathing. But once he woke up, he had the world to hate. He had other people to despise.

He preferred being awake.

And after so long, he barely slept anymore.

It was easier to hate other people.

It was easier to want revenge.

Forgiving was too hard.

"Kevin?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you sleep?"

"Can't."

"Try. For me."

Her voice was soft, pleading. He could feel her arms wrapped around his chest, her soft cheek pressed into his back. After they made love – that was the hardest. She used to just fall asleep and he would hold her and look at her, loving her and all that she was to him. He didn't have to hate the world anymore when he was awake. Because of her, he could learn to love the world. But when he was asleep, the same feelings returned. The nightmares came back.

But as they continued, she noticed how he'd be the last to fall asleep and the first to wake up. She'd always wake up next to him – but he'd be wide awake, staring at the ceiling, his fingers knitted together, his eyes deep in concentration.

And soon she knew – he'd barely sleep, and when he did, he'd toss and turn and wake up only minutes later. It was torture even to watch.

"Please try," she murmured again, clutching him tighter. He'd close his eyes for her sake – he could never say no to her. But sleep crept up to him like a killer with a dagger – he'd run from it in a cold sweat. "You have to sleep, Kevin."

He turned around and kissed her – harder than necessary. He didn't need his dreams – his own mind – all he needed was her. He liked himself when he was with her. But alone, he was nothing but a twisted, cruel, and horrible amalgam of negative emotions that were slowly tearing his sanity to shreds.

"Kevin—" Gwen breathed, and pulled away from him, pressing her hand to his cheek. "Kevin please."

"Just be with me," he whispered, moving done to knick at her ear with his teeth. "I don't need anything else."

"I'm always with you—"

"Not when I'm asleep," he finally spat out, his hand running across her thigh slowly and sensually. "When I'm asleep I'm alone…"

"No."

"Yes. My dreams are filled of _me_. What I was. What I am…" his hair fell into her face as he nuzzled her neck with his nose. "Nothing but nightmares."

She clutched him in a desperate embrace and held his hand in her own. Her free hand moved to caress the back of his head, and she whispered into his ear. "Dream of me then…"

Her soft caresses reminded Kevin of his mother. She used to stroke his hair in the same way, before she had found out the truth about her perfect little boy. Soft stroke after soft stroke, chills ran up his spine that made him feel tingly all over – as if he was glass, so sensitive to the touch.

Gwen's soft "shhhss" in his ear convinced his eyes to shut. He was an infant, being rocked to sleep by his mother, held in her sweet embrace, her warm and protecting arms around him.

Her soft "shhss" began to fade, and Kevin felt himself falling off into sleep. It was an unfamiliar feeling – being peaceful and asleep at the same time.

But he knew why he felt so peaceful.

He didn't dream of his parents, or of his mad-man grins, or, worst of all, the grotesque misshapen creature he used to be.

He was himself. Lying in a grassy field, lying in the lap of a gorgeous young woman dressed in white with long red hair with a flower crown. She held his hand and stroked his hair, softly humming to him as he slept.

He slept as he slept – it was as if he was catching up on lost time.

He liked sleeping.

It took some effort to crack his eyes open. He turned to his side to realize Gwen was longer next to him, but when he turned to his other side, he realized why. It was nearly four o' clock in the afternoon.

"Sleep well?"

Kevin sat up in bed and looked at his doorframe to see a beautiful young woman wearing a white top, her red hair held back by hair band with a flower tucked inside of it. She was smiling at him, her eyes shining with what might've been remnants of happy tears. But he didn't question them.

"Yeah," he smiled back at her. "Yeah, I did."

He had his sweet dreams back.


End file.
